., THE NEW YORKER government behind him but hobbled, until he was expelled. Warren, our commissioner and ambassador, doesn't look pretty in this narrative. He seems to have been personally well disposed toward her, but he was there to diplo- matize in the interest of the upper stone-and her publicity campaign was embarrassing. Her version of their in- terviews is, of course, hers, but what- ever her indignations and surmises, her reporting always has the ring of truth. Cummings advised her to quit, save her life. A more "adjustable" person would have done it. She stayed, ex- pecting, it may be unconsciously wish- ing, to be killed; at any rate, fighting it out-and anyone who fancies the job of impugning her sanity on that account is cordially welcome to this department's share. There was a fed- eral guard, with orders to protect her but not interfere with agrarians com- ing on her land. That was a sham, from her point of view, and as one of her three deadly enemies was now the Puebla commander, and it was com- mon talk that orders to kill her were out, she feared treachery and asked to have the guard withdrawn. Her re- quest is the best alibi for her murder. Whoever has been reading this de- partment, man and boy, from week to week, will infer from the length of the foregoing that we are much taken with this book. We are; for us it is the book of the spring, and we must own up to some doubtless discreditable chivalry, etc. Intending no fool com- parisons, we now know all about old Clovis, when they told him the story of Calvary and he exploded: "Why wasn't I there with my Franksr" AS a department of its word, we fi have finished "Appassionata", and cheerfully give Miss Hurst credit- al ways did, in her sugar-and-tinsel short story days-for a flow; an élan, a volubility of expression that many an author might envy. But we are a little tired of families cat's-cradled with Oedipus and Electra complexes, ex- ceedingly tired of principal characters designated always as "you", and not greatly thrilled by contemplation of a girl whose incomplete transferences have landed her in perverse love with Christ, as visualized in that head with the trick eyelids. Neither do we like a novel's ending on page I 94, and again at the end of another hundred pages. A decidedly, and characteristi- cally, second-hand and third-rate piece of business.-- TOUCHSTONE I=R JYl 59 A ll.l IIRJlIJ' t:t o Ib All[ '* 8 o ([ 0 o II:b IERN DE.e 0 RATnVi:: ..:_ ...., _. ", II; X JlIßJlTllo" .... . . :.Jj'f'!rf".....: w . I o J\{}\[ -1r. f.", sr;:$ _ . 'f v.:: .- , ( , , f-:f hundred years. A nobler Byron, a more musIcal Du- mas, a more vital Meredith, a swifter moving 5cott- hen hI is, ÐONN $YRNE! 13Yl(]\[f Romancefj .soldier, poet, sports- man ana artIst, a Ð 0 N N CJ3 Y R N E is born to h1ess th i.s drah world of ours with hiJ highhearted .stories once in a i \ << HANGMAN'S HOUSE TH E newest, the fullest of 'DoNN 'S great roman. ces. The story of Young Dermot, who was a bold lad, a gallant and handsome lad, and of Connaught 0 J Brien, the woman he loved. , A story of brave hearts which never falter, of leprechauns and revolutionaries, of steeple chases and fox hunts, of the Shan Van Voght and French officers, of the fighting which strong men do with their hands. , A story which moves along like a strong wind, or like the surge of a great sea. $2.50 net. Also a Limited, Autographed Edition of 350 Copies on Rag Paper, $10 ... 1: ì: [ '"'\ :t. '"'\